


Homme Fatale

by publicspeaking



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Cheating, M/M, a little bit of violence here and there, femme fatale should be a character, i wrote a lot of porn for this album oops, some dubious consent issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-02
Updated: 2012-08-02
Packaged: 2017-11-11 06:38:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/475650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/publicspeaking/pseuds/publicspeaking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP based on a few songs off of Britney Spears' Femme Fatale. <b>Inside Out</b> - This needs to end, and Fernando knows it, but knowing it and being able to do it are two completely different things. <b>He About To Lose Me</b> - Fernando knows he is the second choice. Work sent Xabi to Madrid, and work kept Stevie back in Liverpool. <b>Criminal</b> - Fernando chose the wrong restaurant to work at. Sergio's a mobster's son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Inside Out

Sergio texts him that he's coming up to the room. Fernando feels his heart jump, he can't do this right now, can't handle the pressure of the possibility of Sergio being seen by someone coming into his room. This needs to end, and Fernando knows it, but knowing it and being able to do it are two completely different things. Sergio knocks and Fernando lets him in so they can do this without prying eyes, but the words get lost on his lips when he sees him. There's something about Sergio that always takes his breath away, that he's so beautiful, it almost hurts to look at him. Sergio knows what he wants to say, it's obvious in his eyes. He knows everything Fernando is thinking, always has, but still he closes the gap between the two of them, presses his lips flush against Fernando's. He doesn't mean for it to happen, but it does and he's lost in the kiss, lost in the way Sergio knows exactly the way to kiss him to set him on fire, to make him forget everything in the world. They strip down and Sergio's pressing against him on the hotel room bed, kissing and grinding and making Fernando forget why exactly this needed to end. It's not long before Sergio has him spread out; devouring him in the way only Sergio ever could, loving him more than anyone else in the world. He's the only one that's ever made Fernando feel like he's on fire, feel every cell in his body come alive underneath his touch. He's almost there when Sergio pulls back, gives him a hard tug and Fernando knows to look at him, his vision hazy with lust, body heavy and limp and ready for the younger man if he'd just stop fucking around, if he'd just do what he came to do.

"Do you want me?" And Fernando knows it's a loaded question, that it's not just if he wants him in this second, but all the time, if he's always wanted him and why it makes no sense to end this. Sergio's always been the best choice for him, has always been the person who knows him inside out.

"Please." Fernando nods and lowers his eyes, tugging his fingers into Sergio's long hair and pulls him back down to kiss him, refuses to let him go until Sergio's inside him, and then it's just to let out a shuddering breath, keeping him close, keeping them nose to nose as they moved together, sharp snaps of hips and fluid motions. They've done this so many times before they know exactly what to do, and neither of them lasts too long, they've been holding back, Fernando hasn't been answering his calls this week. Sergio's out of him and Fernando feels empty, but more than that he feels guilty, refuses to meet Sergio's eyes because he knows what he'll see in there.

"Fernando..." Sergio starts, because he doesn't want to go, doesn't want this to be the last time for them. Fernando doesn't move until he has control of his body again, but Sergio doesn't say anything, just gets dressed again, and Fernando knows he broke him, he finally broke Sergio Ramos. He finally moves off the bed to clean himself up, and Sergio follows him, fully clothed now, trying to be strong and not let the tears in his eyes fall freely down his face. Fernando knows, he can hear it in his voice, and he feels worse than before, refuses to really look at him, only glancing up at him through his reflection in the mirror. "Don't do it, Fer, please. I love you, we can be happy, you and me. We'll go somewhere, just us and we can be so happy." Fernando just shakes his head and Sergio really breaks, walls crumbling as he wraps his arms around Fernando from behind, presses his face into the taller man's neck, lets his tears sink into his skin. "I love you, please."

"I know." He doesn't turn, just pushes Sergio's arms away, slips away from him so he can get dressed again. "It's just not enough." He doesn't look back when he hears the hitch in Sergio's breathing, doesn't turn around to watch him leave. He waits until he hears the door click behind him and finishes getting dressed, adjusts the vest of his tuxedo and fixes his hair. He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself down before he hears another knock on the door. It's different than Sergio's, demanding his attention and he opens it to find his best man.

"You ready?" Stevie looks him over, brushes the wrinkles out of the shoulder of his tuxedo, and Fernando forces up a smile, tries to hide his nerves. He nods and Stevie grins, slinging an arm around his shoulder. "Let's get you married then, yeah?"

We could run away and be happy, Sergio said, but Fernando thinks he doesn't deserve to be happy, not really.


	2. He About To Lose Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on the Britney Spears song of the same name.

Fernando knows he is the second choice. Work sent Xabi to Madrid, and work kept Stevie back in Liverpool. Fernando was never in the middle before, never even thought about it, but too many long nights studying over law books and briefs and torts and junctions and god knows how many other things he'll never figure how he crammed into his brain made him susceptible to saying yes to a night out, yes to too many drinks with his depressed friend. Yes to kissing him, yes to touching him, yes to going back to his place. There are things Fernando regrets and sleeping with Stevie was one of them, because he knew the truth. It was the Spanish in his accent, it was the alcohol, the fact that he was there. He just wanted to go back to being best friends, to relying on Stevie for help when he has no idea what his textbooks are talking about because the older man's already been there and done that, but it doesn't happen that way. What was supposed to be a one time thing happened more and more, and with less and less alcohol, and Fernando found himself in a relationship he wasn't sure he could break off. He knew if Xabi came back it would be easy, that he was just the warm body filling a space for Stevie. They pretend their affection for one another could be love, but Fernando knows it's not the same, that they're best friends doing things best friends shouldn't, but he can’t hurt Stevie, not when he's already hurting so much.

Stevie's out of town, flown down to Lisbon for some charity golf tournament with his firm and Fernando decides to head to Madrid to see his family. It's spring break, his final one before he graduates law school, and really he just wants to get massively drunk and have a good time. Kun calls him and tells him they're going out, and Fernando obliges. While Fernando wanted a dive bar, Kun drags him to some ridiculous club where they spend an hour in line outside before they're actually let in. While his friend immediately stakes out girls to talk to, Fernando heads to the bar, immediately getting himself two shots of whiskey and a beer, because nothing fucks him up like whiskey and he wants to just let loose tonight.

He's three beers and a few more shots in when someone brushes up close to him to get to the bar. Most people move aside, but Fernando is stubborn and refuses to, because this is his spot and no he doesn't want to dance he wants to get drunk and there are other emptier places near the bar. Besides, his eyes are (sort of) focused on the TV above the bar, watching the highlights of the night's matches. The man next to him must have gotten his drink, but he doesn't move, keeps pressed up close against Fernando. His head moves closer, lips just brushing against Fernando's ear as he speaks, something that should have been a whisper if they were anywhere but this ridiculous night club.

"Are they your team?" He means the team in white, Real Madrid, because in Madrid it's either them or Atletico and not everyone can stomach the kind of pain that Atletico's seasons tend to inflict upon their fans. Fernando's nose wrinkles and he turns to argue, that no, he is not and never will be a Real Madrid fan and he has a lengthy drunken argument on the tip of his tongue before he looks at the man next to him. It might be the beer goggles but Fernando thinks he is seriously beautiful, hair just a bit too long and everything on his face just slightly too large, but it's the imperfections that make him so stunningly beautiful. He's in just a black button down, dark jeans and some fancy black shoes that are really really shiny, dressed to impress, but Fernando can't stop staring at his face, at how he looks kind of familiar but he can't place it. More importantly, staring at him is stirring up something in Fernando, something he hasn't felt in a long time.

"I hate them." He doesn't know why he says it now, but the stranger's face falls and he shrugs, taking his drink from the bar and starting to back away. The disappointment of losing him sets in and Fernando shakes his head, grabs the stranger by the hand. "No, don't go, I don't care if you like them." Fernando's not a needy drunk, but he doesn't want the man to go, wants him to stay and talk and whisper in his ear again and make him keep feeling alive. The man laughs, and his smile is so fucking beautiful Fernando feels his knees get a little weak.

"Come upstairs with me." He tugs at Fernando's t-shirt, some white bedazzled thing Kun saddled him with because he had deemed all of Fernando's clothes boring and English and lawyerly. Fernando just chugs down his beer to leave the bottle on the bar before he follows after the stranger, through the bodies on the edge of the dance floor and finally towards the stairs. The bouncers guarding them just nod the stranger through, but try to stop Fernando until the man comes back to get him, takes him by the wrist and almost drags him up the stairs. He takes him up to the VIP area, where there are scantily clad girls a plenty and a few other guys that look really familiar, some of them sort of laughing at the stranger. He takes it in stride, just shrugs it off. "Look at him," he says and Fernando's cheeks flush a little darker red, like the alcohol hasn't already turned him too warm. The stranger tugs him over to a corner where none of his friends are, where things are a little more private. They sit on the couch next to each other and things are quieter, but the bass is still thumping loudly, or Fernando thinks maybe it's just his heart. Their knees are touching and the man drinks his beer, mysterious almond eyes never leaving Fernando's face.

"I'm with someone." He blurts out, and he doesn't know why, because at this moment, he's not really thinking about Stevie, he's just thinking about how pretty this man is, how much he wants to know what his lips feel like, how much he'd love kissing him all night long. The stranger laughs and it's beautiful, like the rest of him, runs tanned fingers through Fernando's short brown hair, drags his nails along his scalp just lightly to jolt a shiver down his spine.

"I really don't care."

They really don't talk much. The stranger is in incredibly good kisser, and Fernando hasn't really been kissed like that in a long time. It's not that Stevie doesn't try, but he doesn't love Fernando, doesn't think he's the most beautiful creature on earth. He loves Stevie, but he doesn't want to fuck him because he can't keep his hands off him, they're both just in the right place at the right time. This man, with his almond eyes and his talented lips, he ignites something in Fernando that he just doesn't care, follows through with his body's plan. They kiss for what feels like hours, stopping for air only when it's a necessity before diving back in, fingers wrapped up tight in shirts, in hair, traveling down flat stomachs to jeans only to tease and press palms down outside instead of reaching in.

Fernando's in his lap, straddling him on the couch, a hand on the cushion to keep his balance and his other in the man's hair. He's starting to think he's developing a hair kink, Stevie never lets him touch his or mess it up, but this man just enjoys it, makes these noises against Fernando's lips every time he tugs on it that sends a jolt of electricity through his body. His lips are so kiss swollen it almost hurts but he can't stop, can't keep himself away for too long. They stop to breathe but Fernando finds himself right back there, panting against his lips, trying not to show how much he's enjoying the hand exploring his muscles underneath his shirt and even more the hand down the back of his jeans, fingers kneading into his ass. There's a cough behind them, followed by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Fernando wants to ignore it, wants the man's lips and full attention, but he's pulling away to see what his friend wants.

"Sergio? We're leaving." Sergio. His name is Sergio and Fernando likes that, he looks like a Sergio, he tastes like a Sergio. Not like Kun, who is technically also a Sergio, but like a good Sergio, one that doesn't have a stupid nickname for a beautiful name. Fernando keeps repeating his name in his head, mouthing it into his neck until Sergio actually pushes him off his lap, holding out a hand to him.

"Come on, it's time to go home." And Fernando thinks, how nice he's going to walk me home, thinks, but I don't want to leave him yet. Fernando takes his hand, follows him down the stairs and out of the back way of the club, through the parking lot to his car. It's beautiful, this sleek black Audi that Fernando would love to drive, would love to just stare at lovingly all night if he actually knew what was going on with this guy. "Get in." Sergio laughs, pulling a set of keys out of his impossibly tight pants and unlocking the car. "Unless you'd rather we do it right here on my car?" He presses against Fernando with the words, and it's an inviting thought, but no, he's not that drunk.

"Where are we going?" Not knowing doesn't deter him from getting in the car, and the fact that Sergio doesn't answer doesn't really faze him. It's beautiful on the inside too, black leather he can sink into and enjoy, his eyes closing as Sergio takes off in the parking lot, making his way through the busy streets of Madrid. The silence of the ride should have given them time to talk, but Fernando finds himself oddly silent in the passenger seat, watching the city he used to call home pass in front of his eyes.

Sergio doesn't pull into any apartment complex, instead keeps driving outside of the city. There should be worry in Fernando's eyes, but instead he doesn't doubt his safety, just offers the man a smile as they finally pull up to the gate of a rather large house. His eyes widen as he takes it in, looks back at Sergio like he's something special. Obviously he is, getting them up to VIP like that, but things are trying to piece together in Fernando's brain, not lining the pieces up entirely despite how hard he's trying to.

"Here?" Sergio just nods and pulls up to the house, grinning at his companion for the night.

"You like it?" He's trying to be impressive and it's working, Fernando all wide eyed as they finally get out of the car, lets Sergio take his hand to lead him into the house. It's dark inside, but Sergio's not reaching for any lights, just pulling the taller boy against him, kissing him like they had never stopped. Fernando knows what he wants and for a split second he's nervous, he remembers he has a boyfriend back in Liverpool and he should really stop because even if things won't work out with Stevie, he can't do this, he can't break his heart. His focus is lost the second the other man's lips press against his neck, sucking on his skin in slow movements and all Fernando thinks is how amazing his lips are, how he never gets kissed like this back at home. His fingers tangle into Sergio's hair and they stumble around the house, knocking into walls and chairs and coffee tables and doorways. They make it to the stairs before he actually falls, hitting the first one and letting go of the other man to catch himself, hissing when he hits the stairs awkwardly. Sergio just laughs before descending on him, knees on either side of Fernando's hips, tugging up Kun's tacky shirt and tossing it away. There's a wave of self consciousness in Fernando, England doesn't exactly leave him as tanned as Spain once had and he's roughly the color of mayonnaise at the moment. Stevie doesn't mind, but he's not Spanish and Fernando can't actually remember the last time Stevie had a tan either. Sergio doesn't laugh though, just lowers his head to place kisses along Fernando's skin, finding each little freckle he can see in the moonlight filtering in from the window on the top of the stairs and tasting it for himself.

He slips down to the bottom step, his head level with Fernando's crotch and he's pretty sure he's losing his mind in the moment, that someone this beautiful is actually all over him like this. His fingers are quick, undoing Fernando's belt and tugging down his jeans, his dark eyes taking in the expanse of pale skin exposed to him. He's not touching him, not in the right ways, just dragging his fingers up over Fernando's thick thighs, moving his hands down his legs to get his shoes off, tugging his jeans off all the way with them. Fernando's breath hitches in his throat, they're not touching just staring at one another and just that is getting him hard, making him crumble. His boxer briefs are red, a dark maroon that contrasts with his skin, makes him look more milky white, and Sergio's hand is reaching inside them, tugging him out of it. It's obscene, mostly how he's almost naked with his dick hanging out and Sergio's still fully clothed, worshiping his body when Fernando doesn't really think it's all that great to begin with. Still, he doesn't say anything, just whimpers when he feels the warmth of Sergio's lips wrapped around him, all pillow soft and warm and wet, taking him down.

Sergio's mouth is what Fernando imagines heaven feels like. He knows exactly what he's doing, applying the perfect amount of suction, letting his teeth only graze along his skin as he pulls his head back to send shivers up Fernando's spine. He's honestly scared he's going to lose it already, but before his fear is realized, Sergio pulls back, tugs Fernando up to his feet.

"Come." Sergio slips past him and Fernando almost says 'I'd like to' but keeps his mouth shut, just tucks himself back into his underwear and grabs his clothes, following after the other man, up the stairs and down the hall, into what must be his bedroom. He barely has a second to take everything in before Sergio is on him again, kissing him hard and fast and Fernando quickly drops everything he's holding, fingers moving blindly over the buttons on Sergio's shirt, getting him stripped down as fast as he possibly can. His jeans are harder to remove than his shirt, but Fernando succeeds finally, adding them to the pile of clothes and takes his place on his knees in front of the man, tugging down his white briefs slowly.

A phone rings and it looks like it could break their trance when Sergio digs through their pile of clothes for it. Fernando doesn't let it deter him, just pushes him down onto his back and climbs over his legs as Sergio answers the phone, his lips slipping around the head of his cock the second he hears "hola". He just wants attention, wants to be more important than a phone call, but Sergio's grinning down at him, pushing his hips up towards Fernando's mouth with reckless abandon.

"Fernando? Is that his name? He can't come to the phone right now, his mouth is full." Sergio's smile is pure evil; making up for the thickly accented English and Fernando shrugs it off, figures its Kun trying to see where he disappeared to. He pulls back slowly, careful of Sergio's skin as he takes the phone out of his hand, kisses his lips again. The screen of the phone's gone dark so he figures the call's been ended, moaning when Sergio's fingers rake through his hair, pulling his head back to expose his neck. "What do you want me to do to you, Fernando?" And god his name sounds so dirty on Sergio's lips, so devilishly beautiful, he can only make a whimper of a noise.

"Fuck me." He manages to get out before he hears a noise from the phone, sees the screen light up with Stevie's name and 'call ended'. His eyes widen but Sergio's pushing him up and moving him to the bed, kissing him again. Fernando's guilt only lasts until Sergio's lips land on his, he's intoxicating and Fernando's addicted.

\--

He calls Fernando a cab in the morning. They don't eat breakfast together, just an awkward goodbye and Fernando tries to sneak into his parents house with bed head and wrinkled clothes and the sinking feeling that when he finally gets back to Liverpool things will have changed drastically. His mother catches him sneaking in and gives him a look that cuts him, because she's disappointed and he feels like the worst person on the planet. It was amazing, the best he's probably ever had, but the consequences are eating him alive.

Spring break ends and Fernando heads back to Liverpool. As he imagined, Stevie is absolutely livid, and aside from that first confrontation he refuses to take Fernando's calls, and Fernando finally stops trying when Carra tells him enough is enough. Pepe makes jokes about the situation, that they hate working with him now because he's "another fucking Spaniard" as Carra puts it, but Pepe can make light of just about anything. He won't play messenger though, won't pass on to Stevie that Fernando's sorry. He doesn't tell anyone why he did it, doesn't want to put the blame on Stevie for not being enough, because he's the one in the wrong and it sucks but he accepts it.

Fernando's alone in his apartment watching the Madrid derby when he sees him. All in white, wearing the number four, and he feels like he could just die at this moment. He betrayed his boyfriend, but worst of all, he betrayed his club.


	3. Criminal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on the Britney Spears song of the same title

Fernando just wanted to be a chef. Cooking had always been a passion for him, and after culinary school, the restaurant offered up an opportunity for him. They were picky with their chefs, but Fernando hadn't realized why, not until his interview, when he sat there at the table with the men while they ate his food and questioned him on all sorts of things, on how good he was about keeping his mouth shut. They liked the fact that he was quiet, gave him a place to live above the restaurant, and Fernando thought his life was about to get pretty cushy.

It never did. The restaurant didn't really get much traffic aside from the people the family knew. They'd find him at all hours and demand him in the kitchen, 3 am on a Wednesday night he'd hear banging on his door and know that it didn't matter how exhausted he was, it was time to feed members of the family. The life of a mafia chef wasn't exactly something Fernando wanted, but they paid him, gave him a place to live, and he was pretty sure if he tried to resign they would kill him for knowing too much.

The don had three children. His oldest son and his only daughter were older, married and raising children and preparing themselves for the eventual takeover they would have to face. They fit their parts, being who they were told to be with no questions, because the family gave them everything and they were willing to take it. Their youngest son had a different plan for his life. He wasn't going to be the one taking over eventually, he wasn't willing to marry anyone to keep peace amongst the families. He did what he was told because he knew there was no questioning the will of the family, that things were just the way they were. If he hated what he did, Fernando didn't know. They never spoke, just caught each other's eyes from time to time, more often when he began being one of the 3 am crew. Fernando thought he was beautiful, but he was only the help and Sergio was the don's youngest son.

The clock was flashing 3:17 when he heard the knocking on the door. He hated whoever it was that was knocking, ruining his dream of coming in first on Top Chef, of what his life could have been if he hadn't been so desperate to land a job as a head chef right out of school. Tugging on his jeans and the first shirt he saw on the floor, he wiped at his sleepy eyes, pulling the apartment door open. It was Sergio and Fernando tried desperately to not look as exhausted as he felt, just nodding his head slowly.

"I'll get the restaurant open." He tried to hold back the yawn but failed, hiding his mouth in his hand until he was done, just heading back into the apartment to try and find his keys.

"You don't have to." Sergio shrugged, letting himself into the apartment like he owned the place (which he sort of did, Fernando reminded himself glumly). "It's just me tonight." Flicking on the lights in Fernando's apartment, Sergio moved things around to make himself at home, looking at the books on his coffee table before finally just turning on the television, flicking through the channels on the guide until he found the porn. It was frustrating, that he was sitting there and not telling Fernando what he wanted, why he was there. It wasn't until his eyes started to focus; that he realized the dark splashed patterns on Sergio's shirt was actually blood. He swallows thickly and eyes the younger boy, pushing his fingers through his bed head nervously.

"So, um, what can I make for you?" He stutters out because Sergio's always made him nervous, but he's positively shitting himself with the boy sitting on his couch with blood spatter all over him. Sergio just looks at him and shrugs, his eyes tired and kind of sad, like this life takes its toll on him too. "Are you hungry or..." he trails off, not knowing where to go next, because he's too tired to play these mind games, all he wants to do is go back to sleep.

"I want grilled cheese." He speaks up and it's a childish request, especially for Fernando who even through a sleep addled brain can whip up an excellent four course meal. But he nods, because the boss's kid gets whatever he wants, and Fernando heads into his kitchen to get started on it. It's all going smoothly, it's a quick enough snack, but Sergio's off the couch and in the kitchen, grabbing his beer out of the refrigerator and sitting on Fernando's counter, watching him work intently. Fernando says nothing; it's not his place to.

"You look at me a lot." Sergio breaks the silence, and it's not threatening, just an observation.

"I look at a lot of people." Fernando shrugs, and it's the wrong thing to say. He knows his words can be turned against him, that he notices too many things he shouldn't, not in this line of work. Ignorance is bliss, or it would have been if Fernando was any good at being ignorant.

"Not the way you look at me." There's a giant lump in his throat, and Fernando is pretty sure he's going to die right there on the spot, either by Sergio's hands or out of sheer embarrassment. His cheeks are pink and flushed, giving away the truth to everything and Sergio notices, because it's beginning to seem like Sergio notices everything. Fernando flips the sandwich in the pan and Sergio slides off the counter, moves closer to Fernando. "You like what you see?"

This is dangerous ground. He knows with either answer he's fucked, so he just swallows thickly, keeps his eyes focused on the sandwich, keeps his grip tight around the spatula in case he has to use it as a weapon. He's pretty sure Sergio just got back from killing someone and that unnerves the hell out of Fernando, that he's alone with a cold blooded killer who is pressing all too close to his side, waiting for him to speak. So, he doesn't, just moves away from Sergio and gets him a plate for the sandwich, tries not to look him in the eyes when he hands it over.

"Do you need anything else?" His voice is oddly calm, trying to prove he's not afraid of Sergio's mind games while the younger man just sits at the little table in his kitchen, eating his sandwich and drinking his beer.

"You didn't answer my question." He sighs and looks down at the cracked tiles of his kitchen floor, maybe once a white but now an off white, tired of trying so hard, tired of everything Sergio's putting him through tonight.

"Everyone thinks you're attractive, Sergio, and you know you are, so why do you need to hear it from me?" The younger boy shrugs and sucks the grease off his fingers, hollows out his cheek around his middle finger like he knows it'll get a rise out of Fernando, return the pink hue to his freckled cheeks. Fernando looks away and moves closer to take the plate from the table, about to back away before Sergio's long fingers are wrapped around his wrist, tugging him to stay. He's out of his seat before the older boy can say anything, pressing himself against Fernando's back, hips pressing into the generous curve of his ass.

"Because it'll be better for both of us if you want this." His voice is husky and his words are dirty and his breath is warm on Fernando's neck, hand dropping his wrist and moving over his sides, down to undo his hastily pulled on jeans. He hates himself in that moment, for letting this happen, for enjoying every bit of it. He hates Sergio for it too, for the lips on his neck and the hand pushing through his boxers to wrap around his cock, hates he can feel Sergio through his jeans, rocking up against his ass. His head drops down, chin to his chest and he grips the edge of the table, spreading his legs just enough so Sergio's rocking directly on him, can almost feel the boy's grin against his neck. Fernando's making excuses in his head, that he's only reacting this way because it's been so long since someone else has touched him, the business doesn't exactly give him a lot of time for dating and the truth is, he's too scared to bring anyone else into this life anyway. And god, Sergio's beautiful and his hands are rough but they're not his own and that's enough for it to be good.

The younger boy moves his hands away, one deftly pulling down Fernando's jeans and boxers over his ass, running his fingers down it roughly, claiming it as his own. While that hand kneads, his other presses against Fernando's mouth, two fingers on his lips and he knows exactly what Sergio's doing, sucks those fingers into his mouth with relish. He's not as scared as he should be, he just wants to be touched and god the kid knows what he's doing, so Fernando just sucks, makes them as wet as possible before they're withdrawn. His mouth is on Fernando's neck, not kissing, but nipping at his skin here and there, tasting him before he pushes him down on the table, bends him over it until Fernando's cheek is pressed against the hard wood.

They don't speak, Sergio's concentrating on stretching Fernando with his fingers and Fernando's just trying to keep quiet, unsure if he hates this or loves it. He only pulls back for a second, he hears the sound of a metal belt buckle hitting his zipper, hears foil being ripped open and is momentarily grateful that Sergio's at least wearing a condom and isn't about to fuck him using just spit alone. The moment of gratitude is fleeting, because before Fernando's ready, Sergio's pushing his head in, not giving him time to adjust or get used to it, just fucking into him because he can, a hand pressed down into Fernando's tangled mess of hair to keep him down against the table, ignoring the noises he makes and the tears burning into his eyes and down his cheeks. He never says no, never asks him to stop, because he wants this. He wants it better of course, slower and more catering to him rather than the all out abuse of his body, but he's still so fucking hard, still wants to get off on the fact that Sergio's inside him. It hurts, but Fernando thinks if he cared more Sergio would be amazing, the way he pushes in deep and keeps managing to hit that spot in him that makes it all worth it, makes him let out a choked noise of enjoyment.

He's not rude though. Fernando knows Sergio must be close when his hand leaves Fernando's hip to wrap around his cock again, strokes him in time with his thrusts, but he's slowing down, trying to drag it out. Fernando won't let him though, pushing back on him and Sergio laughs, wraps his fingers around him tighter to make him cry out. They keep it up for a few more minutes, Sergio trying to prolong it and Fernando craving it, until finally Fernando can't take it anymore, pushing back on Sergio's cock, bucking his hips up towards his hand. He makes a mess over everything, his stomach, Sergio's hand, the kitchen table, and Sergio's almost there with how tight he's clenched around him, trying to rock into him with no space, only sweet sweet pressure. He doesn't last much longer, doesn't stay in him after he's done, just removes the condom and tosses it towards Fernando's garbage, rearranges his jeans after wiping his hand on Fernando's shirt. Sergio's out the door before Fernando can even move again, the soreness just beginning to settle in, his knees still jelly. It's a few minutes before he can move again, cleaning up the kitchen feebly before making it to the shower to clean up himself, to try and not feel so used.

\--

Sergio comes in the restaurant with dates sometimes. They're all beautiful girls, most cosmetically enhanced in one way or another, but beautiful nonetheless. It's never the same girl twice and he always makes sure Fernando sees him with them, shoots him this smirk that both annoys the hell out of him and cuts him like a knife at the same time. It's always the same though; Sergio will come to the restaurant with the girl and wine and dine her, and show up at Fernando's apartment a few hours later. He makes Fernando suck his fingers, so he can taste the girl on them, so he can know exactly what he was doing before he comes, and Fernando hates how much he relishes the fact that despite fucking these beautiful girls, Sergio always comes to him after, always fucks him so thoroughly after.

He knows Sergio's lifestyle, that he does things he doesn't want to. He knows that coming to him is an escape for the younger boy, somewhere he can get his frustrations out. They don't talk, Sergio doesn't offer anything and Fernando doesn't ask. He never stays the night, always manages to sneak out before Fernando wakes up if they wind up falling asleep together. It was never supposed to be anything, they were never even supposed to kiss, but they did one night, they changed the rules. It was just sex but it was so much more, Fernando was safe for Sergio in a world where nothing had ever been his entire life. They don't leave marks, not where people can see them anyway. Sergio comes to him covered in blood and Fernando cleans him up, doesn't ask, doesn't want to know.

It's one of those nights, Sergio kissing him frantically, not bothering to even get him naked before bending him over on the couch, slamming into him because he needs this, he needs it now. Fernando doesn't understand but he does what it takes to make him feel better, does what he has to for Sergio, pushes back on him to make it better, make him remember who he's with. It calms Sergio just slightly, but there's still a panic in his body, the tension not escaping him. Fernando can feel it, doesn't understand it. It's in the realm of things they don't talk about, but when the door opens, he understands why.

"Ramos." The man is huge, and he's angry and his gun is firing before either of them can react. "Fucking faggots." It's the last thing Fernando hears.


End file.
